“That’s it,” Elliott laughs. “That’s the spot, Kurt. You found it. He’s gone completely numb.”
But Kurt doesn’t answer this time, too involved in fucking his sub in a way Elliott’s never seen him, his head buried in Sebastian’s shoulder, one hand locked around his hips, the other up around his neck, shaking, whispering into his skin as he kisses over his brand.
That fucking brand.
There was a time Elliott would have given his right testicle to be branded by Kurt.
Nowadays, he’d give both.
“Tell me you’re handsome.”
“I’m …” Blaine leaps to obey, but his mouth pinches shut around the words, and he subconsciously shakes his head.
“Do it, pet, or accept punishment. And this time, it won’t be a spanking. I’ll wash your mouth out with soap until you learn to repeat what I tell you.”
“Yes, Sir. I … I’m sorry, Sir … I …”
“Tell me you’re handsome.”
Blaine swallows, forces his mouth open, and makes himself speak without thinking too hard about the words. “I’m handsome, Sir.”
“Tell me you’re talented.”
“I’m talented, Sir.”
“Tell me that you deserve all of the wonderful things that are coming your way.”
Blaine sniffs in, works his tongue inside his mouth to clear away the last two statements in preparation for this one. “I deserve all of the wonderful things that are coming my way, Sir.”
Kurt looks in his sub’s eyes as Blaine’s gaze returns, by default, to the floor. “You know, pet, most of the time you are an amazing actor. One of the best I’ve ever seen.” He sighs. “But not this time.”
“I’m sorry, Sir,” Blaine says with a crack in his words, assuming punishment will follow. And that punishment promises to be extremely unpleasant if Kurt is planning on washing his mouth out with soap. Blaine understands why he would – to clean away the lies Kurt feels that Blaine tells himself so he can replace them with these words that are so damned difficult for Blaine to say.
“No, I’m sorry,” Kurt says, drying Blaine’s hands on a dish towel, then wrapping his arms around him, “because you don’t see what I see. You don’t seem to believe the things that are so obvious to everyone else – your agent, your vocal coach, your dance instructor, me.”
“I’m sorry, Sir,” Blaine repeats because what else is there for him to say? It would be so easy to just recite what Kurt tells him to, like a parrot. But Blaine knows that when they perform this exercise that Kurt expects Blaine to believe the things he’s saying. And he doesn’t. Not yet. “I don’t know how to fix it, Sir.”
“We’ll fix it together, the way we fix everything,” Kurt reassures him. “I will teach … and you will learn. And you will do fabulously, the way you always do.”
It wasn’t the runs that Blaine had a problem with. So many of these young pups that sat in his office practiced those passages until their fingers bled, and then came back for more. Which is what made them such sublime sub material.
They clung to his every word, looked to him for approval.
Were gluttons for pain, and came back for more.
Bach’s Sonata No. 1 in G minor, Bartok’s Violin Concerto No. 2, Paganini’s Nel cor più non mi sento – Blaine chews them up with his teeth and his hands and spits them out like they’re the very oxygen in his blood. It’s the long, slow strains that give most violinists trouble. That tension, it’s hard to hold on to.
But Blaine dives into it with abandon and stays there, floating, as if he were in sub space.
And it makes Kurt hard to watch him.
Blaine has the makings of a true artist, but more than that – he has the soul of an exceptional sub.
On Strings and Needles (WIP)
For @darriness - I’ve been trying so hard to get this done. It’s only been what? A year? Two? For me, that’s right on schedule XD
After Kurt finds a newspaper clipping among Blaine's belongings, praising him for his performance in Hedwig, Kurt decides to do something to keep his little pet grounded. (577 words)
Part 62 of the Taking a Journey Together series
Read on AO3.
“I've got a sweet tooth
For licorice drops and jelly roll …”
Swack!
“Mmph!” Blaine grunts between lips bitten tight, fighting to keep his reaction hidden, to continue with the flow of the song, especially considering he can’t stop between lyrics.
He’s the one singing.
“Hey S-sugar D-daddy … mmph!”
“Keep it up, pet. Keep it up. No dropping words or that will be twelve more lashes with the belt.”
“Hansel needs some sugar in his bowl …”
Swack!
“Ah! I'll lay out fine china on the linen
And polish up the chrome …”
Kurt snaps his belt and whips Blaine again, over a welt on his buttock that’s three swats away from splitting. And even though Blaine hops to the right out of rhythm, perched on the balls of his feet by the rope pulling his wrists above his head, he doesn’t miss a beat.
“If you've got some sugar for me
S-sugar D-daddy bring it home …”
Kurt would normally grab Blaine’s hips, right over that angry red stripe, and put him back in place, but for the purposes of this particular scene, dancing is allowed.
It’s even encouraged.
Kurt hadn’t explained this session to Blaine before they’d gotten started. It was spontaneous, prompted on the fly by a newspaper clipping Kurt found among Blaine’s sheet music – a gushing review of Blaine’s opening night performance as Hedwig. Blaine didn’t clip it for himself. It was gifted to him by the producer. (A Post-It fixed to the top corner told Kurt so.) Kurt wasn’t angry at Blaine for having it. He doesn’t begrudge Blaine trophies of his success. In fact, Kurt has plans for the two of them to sit down and scrapbook this milestone in his life – one of many.
Blaine is a humble man. He doesn’t suffer the sin of pride as extensively as other actors and performers that Kurt has met. But Blaine does tend to get overwhelmed by attention – negative and positive. There will be more reviews, people who will call him a rising star, the next it boy, a multi-faceted and charismatic talent the likes of which Broadway rarely sees (direct quote). They’ll lavish praise on him, and that praise will go to his head.
It won’t inflate it. It’ll fill with him anxiety, the need to keep up, the desire to please …
… the fear of failing.
This scene is meant to ground Blaine, remind him what’s important. No matter what people outside their circle say, whether they call him a star or a flop, the most important things he has are the things he called his own before he became a star.
His talent, his family, and his Master’s love.
And the success he’s already achieved? No one can ever take that away from him.
“People travel from all over to see you perform, pet,” Kurt says over Blaine’s singing and the crack of his leather belt. “They pay hundreds of dollars simply to sit within ten feet of you, for the honor of possibly getting kissed by you. But at the end of the day, you come home to me. I get your hands, your body, and your pretty little mouth.” Kurt smacks Blaine on the rump so hard he practically leaps into the air. Kurt watches him land nimbly while managing to keep his eyes lowered and his voice perfectly on pitch. Kurt grins. A multi-faceted talent indeed. “And you dance for me whenever I want.”
Kurt tries to help Blaine lose his "mythical love handles" by helping him work out, but with a slightly sadistic touch. (1448 words)
Takes place earlier on in their relationship while Blaine was in "Kinky Boots", after the production's choreographer claimed that Blaine had love handles. Warning for prostate massage and oral sex.
Dom Kurt, sub Blaine
Part 53 of the Taking a Journey Together series.
Read on AO3.
“Love handles,” Kurt scoffs. He hugs Blaine’s knees, keeping a close eye while his sub completes his second of three sets of sit-ups. At only fifty sit-ups per set, Blaine should barely be breaking a sweat. But he’s drenched, panting when he should be breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth calmly, and shaking all over. “We’ll show that pompous ass-hat where he can shove his love handles. Won’t we, pet?”
“Y-yes, S-sir,” Blaine agrees on his next sit-up.
“Yes, yes, now, shush and keep going,” Kurt reprimands, grinning fiendishly at Blaine’s progress. “Forty-five … forty-six … forty-seven. That’s it, keep going. You’re almost there.”
Blaine shudders with each sit-up, doing his best not to pause for too long in between. But his Dom’s instructions guarantee that he does. Sit-up, stay for one count, back down. That one count in between is becoming the death of him. It’s not the sit-ups doing Blaine in; it’s the wand pressing firmly against his prostate – his Aneros vibrating massager. Every time Blaine sits up, he’s overwhelmed by a feeling of utter bliss, one that makes him want to stay upright and rock gently, absorb it all in. He can’t give in to it, but he knows it’s just a matter of time. He can’t fight physiology forever. He can only do his best to put it off as long as possible. And that’s part of what this training is about.
Kurt doesn’t believe for a second that Blaine has love handles. Looking at his sub’s gorgeously naked body as he leads Blaine through this routine, Kurt can see Blaine doesn’t. That’s just an excuse. Not that Kurt needs an excuse, but having one is part of the fun.
“Forty-nine … fifty. Now take a breather, and we’ll move on to your next set.”
Blaine lies on his back, knees bent since lying flat might end him altogether. But Kurt has no intention of letting Blaine relax. He hooks his finger into the looped base of the vibe and moves it around slowly. He unseats it, taking it from pleasant to frustrating, missing the mark, and then twists it, changing the direction and the intensity of the vibrations. Blaine can’t close his eyes to focus on fending those sensations off or concentrate on becoming numb. Kurt won’t let him. Kurt wants Blaine to remain in the moment, not slip away to his comfort zone where he can compartmentalize and deal. So Blaine takes a series of deep breaths in and out, attempting to calm his body’s response to the vibrations which Kurt has, once again, positioned perfectly against his prostate.
Lying still isn’t much better than sitting up if Kurt’s going to manipulate the wand like that. Blaine wishes he could cross over that threshold between building up ecstasy and oversensitivity. Oversensitivity is painful – the constant, relentless throbbing; the twinges of pleasure doing its best to peak a second, third, fourth climax; the relentless pressure - but it’s something he handles better. Blaine can isolate pain to one area and let it pulsate there. But ecstasy is overwhelming. It takes over everything when it hits, from his toes to his head. It strums every muscle, distorts his vision, stirs his brain into pudding.
“Okay,” Kurt says long before Blaine can competently catch his breath. “Fifty more. Let’s start with one. Hold it …” Kurt grabs Blaine’s arm and keeps him upright, staring him in the eyes as the Aneros massager assaults Blaine’s prostate ruthlessly. Blaine tries to remain stoic for as long as he can, but a second longer than usual goes by, and he whimpers. The corners of Kurt’s mouth curl into his cheeks and he lets go. “Another. Two, and hold it …” Kurt grabs Blaine’s arm again, delighting in the way Blaine’s body trembles, his cock twitching, fighting to cum just as hard as Blaine fights to keep it from happening. Kurt lets go. “Three, and hold …” This time, Kurt leans forward and brushes his lips over Blaine’s mouth. He spreads Blaine’s legs and maneuvers between them, teasing Blaine’s tight balls with his thigh.
“Fuck …” Blaine murmurs under his breath, chasing his Dom’s mouth when Kurt starts to back away. Kurt’s fingers wrapping around Blaine’s arm the way they would if he took Blaine’s cock and held it, add fire to his stomach, make him want to go faster, push harder. Kurt staring into Blaine’s eyes, commanding him not to cum without words while he taunts him, tests him, tries to draw it out of him, is almost as intimate as if they were actually making love to one another.
It’s Kurt’s control Blaine chases when he licks his lips in search of Kurt’s mouth; when he sits up again and again, even though each one is steadily defeating him. But Blaine does what Kurt says, even if he thinks he’ll eventually fail, because he’ll take Kurt’s control over an orgasm any day of the week.
And he’ll accept Kurt’s punishment, whatever Kurt chooses, if Blaine happens to have an orgasm without permission.
He’s getting to that point, but he can’t stop himself.
“Maybe later,” Kurt whispers as Blaine sits-up, then sits-up again, and again, Kurt baiting him with the promise of kisses, trying to make Blaine forget himself.
“Thirty-eight … thirty-nine … forty …” Kurt counts off in his most commanding but seductive voice, grabbing Blaine’s arm after each rise and holding him still to let the massager do its work. “If you reach fifty, I might let you have my mouth, pet.”
“Oh, God,” Blaine moans, going through his sit-ups mechanically, on autopilot, so he can reach the end and receive his reward. He’s not thinking at this point, simply feeling, the drive toward the end a double-edged sword. He only has five sit-ups left to go, but he doesn’t see how he can put off cumming much longer. His abs start twitching so violently he’s sure he’s getting a cramp, but that doesn’t matter. He’d tear something loose for the opportunity to have Kurt’s mouth on him.
“Forty-seven …” Kurt counts, holding Blaine longer in between each sit-up. “Forty-eight … forty-nine …” It’s almost precisely timed when it happens. Kurt counts off fifty and Blaine lies down, but before his head reaches the floor, he’s cumming, so rock hard and so turned on that it hits him beneath the chin. His body shudders, blood rushing through his ears, making them ring.
“Well, you did it, pet,” Kurt says, spreading Blaine’s legs open wide and climbing in between. “And a promise is a promise.”
Before Blaine can remember what that promise was, he feels the hot, wet enclosure of Kurt’s mouth clamp around his still aching cock and forcefully suck.
The headache-inducing pain is excruciating and immediate. His cock still hard, but so sensitive from his powerful orgasm, that Kurt’s glorious mouth makes Blaine want to shove away and scream. Another hard suck and Blaine slams his hands to his sides. He growls through his teeth, clenching his entire body to keep from squirming. But it’s a reflex response, his body cringing away from Kurt’s mouth before he can think to stop.
“Now, now, now, settle down, pet,” Kurt purrs. His hands crawl up Blaine’s chest, dry fingertips searching out his equally sensitive nipples and running lightly over the hard nubs. “We don’t want you screaming and ruining your pretty voice, do we?”
“No … Sir,” Blaine answers in a grunt as Kurt latches over his tormented cock and sucks again. Kurt goes all out for this one, agonizing blow, lapping at the sides of Blaine’s shaft inside his mouth, humming as he travels from head to base, tonguing Blaine’s slit with barely there licks that on any other day would be a pathway to rapture, but for now feel like the sharp edge of ice cold glass shaving along his skin.
“Mmm, good,” Kurt murmurs. “Now, we’ll take out the Aneros wand and flip over.” Kurt lifts up and backs away with a few parting licks to see Blaine’s ab muscles jump. Kurt pulls the wand out of Blaine’s ass, and Blaine obediently rolls to his stomach, arms and legs shaking as he struggles to position himself on his hands and knees. Kurt picks up a thick, knobbed dildo from the blanket beside them and covers it with a condom. He coats the thing with lube, then uses his lube covered fingers to prime Blaine’s hole. The Aneros massager is a decent size, but this dildo could do some damage if Blaine’s not properly prepared. “Alright, pet.” Kurt sizes up Blaine’s hole and works the dildo in. “It’s time for push-ups.”
PLEASE someone write a dom!kurt sub!blaine fic (not a D/s AU) where Kurt works at Domino’s and Blaine works at Subway and they meet because the buildings are one in front of the other i’m BEGGING YOU, WRITERS!!! please?
Dom!Kurt, Sub!Blaine, working at Domino’s and Subway.
Kurt wants to reward Blaine with a vanilla dinner, like the ones they went on before they moved in together. But they discover that sometimes the things they enjoyed during their old dynamic don't translate well to their current one. (854 words)
Notes: You may want to re-read 'In Public' before you dive into this one :) Dedicated to @itallstartedwithharry because I think it will give her a giggle xD
Part 63 of the Taking a Journey Together series
Read on AO3.
“How are you enjoying the wine? It pairs well with your salmon, don’t you think?”
Blaine looks up from his dish, eyebrows rising slowly at the question his Dom posed.
“Uh … I …” Blaine looks around him, at a loss for an opinion on the wine considering everything else going on … or, more specifically, not going on “… I think it’s excellent as always, Sir.”
“I’m glad. I want you to enjoy your meal. You deserve it after the performance you gave last night. Truly spectacular.”
“I … thank you … Sir?”
Kurt nods, a sincere smile lifting his lips as he returns his attention to his Mediterranean salad. Blaine watches Kurt eat, waiting to see if he’ll ask anything else of him … anything more in keeping with their usual evenings out. But aside from a request to pass the pepper, Kurt has done nothing on par. He let Blaine order his own meal (without a single cayenne pepper in sight). He hasn’t dropped his fork for Blaine to pick up, or untied his shoelace for Blaine to tie. He didn’t force Blaine into chastity before they left, or bind him in a harness underneath his shirt.
He even asked Blaine if he wanted to order dessert.
Blaine doesn’t mind making these kinds of decisions. They don’t stress him out. It’s just not often that he gets to.
He doesn’t understand why tonight.
“Sir” - Blaine swallows hard - “may I ask you a question?”
“Of course,” Kurt says, reorganizing the contents of his plate to compose the perfect bite on the tines of his fork. “Anything you want. Ask away.”
“I … have I done something wrong, Sir?”
“Not a thing.” Kurt slices a portion of his lamb and holds it out to Blaine on the blade of his knife. When Blaine realizes that Kurt is asking him silently if he wants it, he nods, and Kurt slides it onto the side of Blaine’s plate. “In fact, you’ve gone above and beyond. You’ve been working so hard with the musical while managing to be obedient as ever at home. So, I thought I would reward you.”
“Reward me, Sir?” Blaine takes another look at his dinner – salmon Alfredo that he himself chose. It wouldn’t have been the meal Kurt would have chosen for him, Blaine knows. Unlike their usual haunts, this restaurant in particular tends to be heavy handed with the cream and butter. But Kurt didn’t flinch when Blaine said he wanted it. “This is a reward?”
“Of course. A nice, vanilla dinner. Like the ones we used to have when we first started dating. Remember them?”
“I do, Sir?”
“Do you remember when you said you missed them?” Kurt asks. Blaine’s breathing catches, but there’s no edge in his Dom’s voice. Kurt wasn’t upset by that remark, and he’s not trying to make a point. He wanted to do something for Blaine, something he thought Blaine would like, and this is what he chose. Blaine is touched. He really is. Except …
“I do, Sir. And I’m so humbled that you remembered. But, I have to admit, vanilla dining with you … it’s a little unsettling.”
Kurt examines Blaine’s face over the rim of his wine glass, and for a second, Blaine is afraid he may have offended him. But Kurt values honesty. He always says be honest first, kind second, and respectful always. That doesn’t mean Kurt will always like what Blaine has to say, but communication is key, whether he likes the outcome or not. Kurt puts his glass down, following it with a thoughtful gaze, then picks up his napkin to wipe his mouth.
“Agreed,” Kurt says. “I’m not used to this. Not with you. It feels so … lacking.”
Blaine sighs in relief. “I’d say that’s a good word for it, Sir.”
“So what should we do, pet? Hmm? Do we finish this dinner the way it stands, or do we fix it, so to speak?”
“I say whatever you think is best, Sir, that’s what we should do.”
That, of course, was the right answer.
It barely takes a second for Kurt to decide.
“Give me your underwear, pet,” Kurt commands without lowering his voice.
Blaine tries to remain impassive in his response, but he can’t help a tiny smile slipping with the excitement kick-starting his heart.
“Yes, Sir,” he says, putting down his napkin and preparing to leave his seat. But Kurt grabs his wrist before he can stand.
“No no no, pet,” he says, flashing that devilish grin that makes Blaine’s stomach sick in all the best ways. “Right here.”
“H-here?” Blaine glances left and right, at the crowd of couples and families who chose tonight to have dinner out. It’s nine o’clock, and the dining room is so packed, there’s a line forming at the maître d’s station. “A-at the table, Sir?”
“A-ha.”
Blaine glances around again, and then once down at the fly to his slacks. “H---how, Sir?”
Kurt’s grin grows wider as he raises his fork, carrying another impeccably organized bite, to his lips. “Figure it out.”
Klaine Advent Drabble - “The Perks of Being a Key Holder” (Rated NC17)
At a Vogue event, Kurt happily shows off his brand new charm that his submissive Blaine has “given” to him. (583 words)
Written for the Klaine Advent Drabble prompt ‘charm’. Warning for humiliation and mention of cock cages. Please see notes at the end.
Part 37 of the Taking a Journey Together series.
Read on AO3.
“What an absolutely exquisite charm!”
Kurt smiles graciously, patting down the ornament dangling from the silver Figaro chain peeking out from behind his bowtie.
“Isn’t it though?” he gushes. “I just can’t get enough of it! My wonderful boyfriend gave it to me.”
This older woman, who had stopped Kurt and Blaine on their way to finding Isabelle, is the freelance editor of a trendy new fashion blog that Vogue is wooing towards the dark side. She was making the rounds, shaking the requisite hands, when she spotted Kurt’s newest bauble and moved in for a closer look. The charm is simple in its spectacle - a thin, plain, silver key, adorned with a delicate, faux porcelain topper, painted in a white and blue English teacup motif.
As pretty as it is, it’s more gorgeous in its symbolism than in its style.
“You’re a very lucky young man,” she remarks, glancing over at Blaine, standing silently beside Kurt, his lips pulled into a polite smile. “The key to his heart, I assume?”
Kurt laughs. Blaine does not. The woman laughs, too, but only because Kurt does. She has no idea what could be so funny.
“No, no, no,” Kurt says, shaking his head. “His dick.”
The woman falls silent, her smile dropping so that her eyes go wide and her jaw slack. But a second later, she laughs again, and Kurt joins in, his put on laugh becoming more genuine when he looks at Blaine and sees the tips of his ears flushing bright red. Of course, they’ve been red for the past hour, but at this point, they’ve become conflagratory.
“You’re pulling my leg!” she says, giving Kurt’s hand a playful slap.
“Absolutely not! I can show you if you’d like.” Kurt reaches for Blaine’s crotch, but the woman grabs Kurt’s arm and tugs him away, only halfheartedly concerned for the dapper young man who has remained unusually quiet throughout this whole exchange. This is how the world of high fashion is, she reminds herself. Full of excess and debauchery. She’s not offended in the slightest. On the contrary. She’d kill to be a younger version of herself celebrating her current success in life with a sexy young thing at her beck and call like Kurt Hummel has.
“No, no, no, you cheeky boy. Making fun of an old woman like that! You should be ashamed of yourself!”
“Well, the offer still stands,” Kurt says, palming Blaine’s cock before he pulls his hand away. “Whenever you want to see it. Especially if it’ll win you over to our side.”
“I may just take you up on that, Mr. Hummel.” The old woman chuckles lightly and shakes her head, walking away towards the buffet and leaving Kurt to return to his sub. Blaine’s ears are not only glowing red now, but he’s bent slightly at the waist, the attention from Kurt’s hand having caused Blaine’s cock to swell in its smaller than normal cage.
Kurt frowns. “Posture, pet,” he snaps. With the slimmest of grimaces, Blaine pops back upright. Kurt puts his hands on Blaine’s shoulders, turns him around, and leads him into the throng. “Well, pet,” he says, pushing his silent submissive through the crowd – silent as punishment for touching his Master’s cock without permission, “she makes number forty-two out of three hundred and fourteen people who R.S.V.P.’d to this event. And we’re not leaving until every last person knows what this key is for … whether they believe me or not.”
***Notes: Okay, so, I wrote this, but to be honest, it’s a little out of character for me. This is a form of humiliation that’s very popular right now on chastity sites and whatnot, but it’s never been something that I personally subscribed to because, for me, it straddles a few grey areas. Inviting non-consenting people into a scene, for one. Also, as a key holder, I always felt that it was my responsibility to keep that key safe. Flaunt it, yes, but not explicitly tell anyone what it was for. The humiliation came in having it, wearing it, keeping it away from a caged submissive, not in the outright telling others what it was for. People in the know would know, of course, but no reason to bring, say, the woman bagging my groceries into it. But some people crave this kind of humiliation, so I catered to it, but it’s probably not something I would do in real life. And again, that’s just me.
